


Mahalo

by glacis



Category: Relic Hunter
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sydney's reunion isn't what she expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mahalo

Mahalo. Based on and contains dialogue from “Fertile Ground.”

 

It hadn't exactly been the reunion she'd been hoping for.

True, fifteen years had passed since she'd last seen him. But he didn't look all that different from when they'd gone together in high school. Hair still thick and dark and wavy, eyes still deep and rich like really good chocolate. He'd kept in good shape, and his grin was still bright.

And he was still completely obsessed with the lost idol of Lono.

Sydney managed not to let her jaw drop as her expectations bit the dust. Shifting on the stair that had felt so intimate a moment ago and now just hurt her butt, she glared under her eyelashes at her high school sweetheart, Claudia's 'One Who Got Away.' Her secretary didn't realize that pretty much everything she chattered about to Nigel was easily overheard in Syd's office. Bad fittings on the duct work. Old building. Since Claudia was the mouthpiece for the grapevine at Trinity College this usually made for entertaining, if not enlightening, listening.

In this particular case, her speculations were a little too close for comfort. Only the particulars were secret, and just how long ago she'd lost him.

Putting 'could have been' thoughts back in the locked box in her mind, she concentrated on getting the job done, and tried not to remember why she'd dumped Tony Apua the first time.

 

Things hadn't been going well in Madagascar. When Sydney had called with her instructions, out of the blue when she was supposed to be on vacation, Nigel'd had to do preliminary research just to find the dot on the map that was Faradofe, their rendezvous spot. When he had found it, he'd discovered isolated beaches, clear warm ocean, irregular flight schedules, bad beer, unfriendly natives, and sand flies.

This hunt was not off to the best of beginnings.

Giving up for the fourth day in a row on the possibility of extracting, begging or bribing the bartender into letting slip some information on the elusive owner of the establishment, he wandered outside, ears perking up at the sound of the sea plane. Sydney. At last! She looked blessedly normal. Perhaps a tad irritated, but blessedly normal.

"Hi, Syd," he assayed. She responded with her usual get-immediately-to-business approach.

"Hey, Nigel. What d'you have?"

Now, how to say 'not a bloody thing' in a way that made it obvious he'd tried very hard before coming up empty-handed? Academic doublespeak kicked in automatically. "Well, the thing of it is, Syd, the locals have got a lot of built up resentment for anything outside their frame of reference. It sounds strange, I know, but it's quite understandable, actually, uh, given their history of occupation - "

"So you got zip." She didn't even sound surprised. He sighed.

"Zip."

Then a muscular, tanned man, a full head taller than he, with the most incredible bone structure, climbed out of the plane and began to unload baggage. The past few days of failure were swept clean from Nigel's mind on a wave of unmitigated lust.

"Say hi to Tony," Sydney introduced them casually. Blast! So this was Tony. As usual, Nigel's tongue engaged before his brain could recover from the tidal wave of hormones.

"Tony -- Tony! We've heard -" Sydney gave him a look that could stop a charging rhinoceros mid-step. His speech veered around the potential disaster. " -- Absolutely nothing about Tony. Uh hem." Ripping his eyes away from Sydney's property, he wrenched his attention back to work. It was safest that way. If she caught him leering at another of her old boyfriends, who knew what she might do? Dating Syd's cast-offs once was bad enough. Twice would be too much to hope for. He cleared his throat. Did all Sydney's ex-boyfriends looked this bloody delicious? First Bruce, now Tony. Business, he chanted to himself. Business. "The guy we're waiting for. His name's Fletcher."

"Yeah? Who's that?"

Oh, god, Nigel thought helplessly. The voice matches the body. I'm toast. Realizing he was thinking in Claudia-speak, he shook himself firmly and forced himself on-task. "He owns the bar. He's the local know-it-all. I'm having a hard time negotiating an audience." Gulping, he asked the question he could ask, if not the one he wanted to ask. "How did you two meet? I mean, originally?" There was no way on God's green earth he could ask if they'd taken up where they'd left off.

Sydney gave him another warning look, this one much less forceful. "Nigel -- "

Tony answered anyway, grinning over at him. Nigel grinned helplessly in response. "It was a hit and run."

Thoughts of the jeep with which he'd nearly run his last date down danced through Nigel's head. "Hit and run?"

"Yeah."

"Tony!" Syd's warning bounced off her high school sweetheart with no appreciable effect.

"Well, actually, it was at a game. She was cheering on the sidelines and I went down and out and long on a pass and I crashed into her." Tony's grin widened.

Nigel's mind flashed from jeeps to Tony in tight shiny pants to an unexpected view of Sydney in a short frilly skirt waving about pom poms. He blinked. " ... Sydney was a ... Sydney was a cheerleader?!"

"Oh, yeah!" Tony sounded almost too appreciative. Nigel sighed.

"Let's not go there!" From Sydney, the words were an order. She brushed past them and went into the shadowed confines of the beaten-down bar. Nigel sidled over to Tony, looking up at him through his lashes.

"You, uh, you wouldn't have any photos, would you?" He smiled hopefully.

Tony glanced forward to where Sydney had disappeared, then back to Nigel, and smirked silently. Then he opened the door and waited for Nigel to step inside. Compelled by instinct to glance over his shoulder, he caught Tony giving his backside an appreciative glance. It was gone in an instant, and Nigel mentally shrugged. Probably his own wishful thinking.

Glancing over at the rigid set of Sydney's spine, he found himself saying apologetically, "I did say it was unsavory."

"Ha," she replied, taking the measure of the place in a glance, a true professional. "You were being kind."

An idiot at a table near the door, more whiskey than brain cells left in his cranium, made the mistake of groping Sydney's thigh. She glanced down at him, a sneer on her face, then efficiently pinned his hand to the table and broke his thumb.

"That's one bone. You have two hundred and five more. You do the math." She left the whimpering husk behind her and stalked to the bar. Both Nigel and Tony watched with admiration. "Hi. My assistant assures me that you could tell us where Fletcher is."

She was no more intimidated by the huge bulk of the bartender than she was the creep she'd dismantled at the door. Her tone was friendly, now, inviting confidence. Nigel came up behind her, trying to ignore the heat of Tony all along his back.

"Yes, I'm afraid my boss isn't as patient as I am."

The bartender ignored him, as he had all week except when Nigel was stuffing money into his greedy paw. "Back room, maybe. But I wouldn't go back there."

Tony spoke up before either Nigel or Sydney could move. "Syd, you better stay here. Let me handle this. Might be dangerous."

He patted them both on the back and headed for the entryway to the side of the bar. Nigel pulled his thoughts, rapidly growing lascivious, from the lingering warmth where that hand patted his shoulder, and glanced over at Sydney. "Does he know what he's doing?" Unspoken, the idea that Sydney couldn't handle herself in a dangerous situation was ludicrous, and Tony couldn't know her as well as he thought.

"God, I hope so." She didn't sound any more sure than Nigel felt.

It was prescient caution. Moments later, a thug bellowed, "Mind your own damned business!" and Tony was thrown head-first back into the main room of the bar.

Nigel sighed. Sydney swung into action, grabbing an oar from the display brackets on the wall and wading into battle. Nigel followed warily.

Taking on two at once, her norm, Sydney scolded them, "Didn't your mother ever teach you to play nice?" The fact that she was bashing one man in the testicles with the end of the oar when she said it only gave force to her argument.

Diving in, jumping on the back of the behemoth who was pounding Tony into a pulp, Nigel felt the world go around in circles. Then it dipped and crashed as he was body-slammed into a table. Pain ripped through him, centering in his shoulders that had taken the brunt of the force from the blow and his right shin. "My leg!" he cried. Nobody noticed.

During a brief pause in the battle frenzy, Tony threw an incredulous question at him. "Is she always like this?"

Nigel answered honestly. "It doesn't usually take this long. She must be jet-lagged." Then the world swirled again as the bartender jerked him upright, off his feet, one beefy arm around his neck, the other ham-fist holding a wickedly gleaming knife to his throat. "Sydney!" he tried to scream. It came out sounding more like a panicked squeal, but she heard him.

"Freeze, sister!" the bartender growled. From out of nowhere, a hand appeared, staying the huge hand before it could slice Nigel open.

"There'll be no killing in my bar."

Well. So that's all it took to find the elusive Fletcher, Nigel grumped internally. Start a war and nearly get killed. Should have thought of this days ago. It would have saved wads of cash!

"Fletcher?" Sydney asked.

"Fletcher?" Nigel echoed, irritated. Then the bartender dropped him. The jolt tore up his leg, along his spine and exploded in his brain. He dropped like a rock and the world grayed out.

Next thing he knew, all that lovely warmth was back as Tony helped him to a chair. Leaning against the table, Nigel gave what tiny part of his concentration wasn't being consumed by agony to the negotiations around him. Sydney was so much better at this than he was, and he had a feeling it had more to do with personality than the admittedly wide gulf of experience between them. Tuning into the conversation, he did his best to ignore the fire in his leg and appear alert.

Sydney was leaning forward, eyes bright, on the hunt. "So the Resolution sailors were on this island."

"They say five of 'em came ashore in a long boat. Started makin' enemies right away."

Nigel groaned, unable to help himself, not completely sure if it was the pain or Fletcher's laconic delivery that hurt worse. Fletcher barely glanced at him before returning his attention to Sydney.

"Folks here didn't take too kindly to foreigners back then."

Looking away, biting his lip to try to remain silent, Nigel didn't respond to Sydney's sideways, ironic glance.

"Must be comforting to know you've come such a long way." The sarcasm in her voice was thick enough to cut with a knife. Nigel fidgeted, unable to sit still from the pain in his leg.

"So what happened to them?" Tony's tone of voice made it clear he'd had enough story-telling too, and wanted the man to cut to the chase.

"Outwore their welcome," Fletcher droned on. "The villagers banished 'em. They headed west toward Magar Peak."

"Magar Peak?" Sydney parroted back. Fletcher nodded.

"Never heard from again." There was relish in his voice.

"Did the sailors bring anything with them?" Tony pressed. Fletcher gave him a confused look.

"With 'em?"

Nigel'd had enough. Time was being wasted and his leg hurt. "Basically, a ... an idol." Sydney gave him a reproachful look. Nigel widened his eyes and shrugged infinitesimally.

"How come so many people are asking that question all of a sudden?"

"Who else?" Nigel demanded, attention caught.

"I dunno," Fletcher plodded on. "Some bloke with a scar. He rented the only four by four in town."

"Magar Peak," Sydney dragged them all back on topic with typical single-mindedness. "Can you tell us the fastest way to get there?"

"Nope," Fletcher answered baldly. After waiting a few moments, Sydney continued with forced patience.

"Do you know someone that can?"

"Maybe," Fletcher conceded. "Couple guys I know, they know this island real good. But they're a little ... odd." He winked. It was more grotesque than inviting.

Sydney smiled, closer to a snarl than an expression of good will. "Thanks. We'll take our chances."

Taking this as their cue to depart, Nigel tried to stand. The fire that had been eating at his leg flared into an engulfing explosion as it collapsed beneath him. Thankfully, Tony was there to catch him. Nigel grabbed hold of him and held on for all he was worth, mentally cursing the fact that the man was holding on to him and all he could feel was pain.

"Oh, my leg!" he yelped, hands digging into Tony's shirt, his chin sliding along the length of Tony's left arm. His skin was soft and warm, and Nigel wanted nothing more than to burrow into it and lose himself. Well, that, and have the pain go away. "Ow! Ow! Gently!"

Tony guided him back into his chair. "Easy does it. There you go."

Deposited back into the chair he'd just unsuccessfully tried to leave, he watched as Sydney rolled up his trouser leg. His shin was streaked with red, swollen and looking almost as painful as it felt.

"Ah, geez," Sydney breathed sympathetically. Nigel stared wildly up at her.

"Ouch!" Tony agreed.

Sydney looked it over thoroughly. "Looks like it could be broken."

"Yeah."

"Eh?!" Nigel didn't want to hear that.

She grimaced at him. "You're not going anywhere, Nigel." Looking over at Fletcher, Sydney asked, "You have a doctor?"

"Yep," Fletcher answered, staring blearily at the three of them. Sydney growled low in her throat.

"Could you call him?"

"Gotta warn ya," Fletcher winked again, "He's a little odd."

That was just what Nigel didn't want to hear. Unable to stop himself, knowing he was making an ass of himself but panicked enough not to care, he babbled, "What if he doesn't have a medical degree? What if he practices bloodless surgery?" Tony smiled down at him, and the words dried up.

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Nigel," Sydney soothed him. Right, he thought, but he won't be conducting experiments on you! "Besides," she continued, breaking into his increasingly distraught thoughts, "I think this Fletcher guy tends to exaggerate the," she paused to give him a theatrical wink, "oddness factor."

"You think?" Nigel didn't.

They left him there anyway. They had no mercy. Watching them leave, he sighed, an emotional mixture of desolation at being abandoned to the care of peculiar strangers and pure unadulterated lust.

If Syd didn't want Tony, he'd be next in line. Even if he had to drag himself by his teeth.

 

Sydney stared at the backs of the two decidedly odd men leading them to Magar Peak and wondered if her life would ever be anything but a long, risky relic hunt. She'd been thinking about her reunion for weeks, wondering if Tony would be there, wondering if there would be a chance to try again, all the normal hopes of a woman returning to confront her past.

So much for normality.

The whine of a bullet brought her back to the here and now and she doubled back, coming upon a second relic hunter. He was a second-rate Indiana Jones wannabe named Dryer, complete with battered hat and stubbly jaw. The fight was swift and brutal, and he went over the side of the ravine, swept away on the current, only his hat bobbing on the waves attesting to his passage.

Before he fell over the cliff, he confirmed her guess. She wasn't the first relic hunter Tony had approached. Not only did Tony not want her as a woman, she wasn't even his first choice as a hunter! That hurt more than it probably should. She didn't have the world's greatest confidence in herself as a woman, heck, even Nigel was better with the opposite sex than she was. But she knew she was a damned good hunter. That Tony wouldn't even go to her strength -- that hurt.

She tried to challenge Tony on it, but the only response he could give her was that he'd been obsessed forever with the Lono idol. She'd known that. He said that he'd felt rejected when she'd dumped him. What was she supposed to do, let him get away with making out with the stage manager then come to her?

"I took the part of Maria just so I could kiss you." She smiled at him, but her heart wasn't in it.

Maybe he didn't know she'd seen him kissing Danny, but it didn't matter. He joined drama to get closer to her, but playing Tony to her Maria hadn't been the only thing he discovered he enjoyed. He'd had other things, other people, in his life that were more important to him than she was. She hadn't been enough then, and she wasn't now.

He tried flirting with her. She brushed him off and turned back to what she was good at. The hunt had always been her forte. She would find him his idol, they'd take it back home, and she'd say goodbye. He'd betrayed her one time too many, and he hadn't changed one iota from the way he'd been back at Koelani High.

It was time she accepted it, accepted him, accepted herself, and just let it go.

As expected, nothing went as expected. They found the idol; the geeks leading them took it and tried to bury them alive. They managed to escape their tomb; the geeks were murdered by Dryer, who wasn't as dead as she'd thought, and the idol went missing. During the course of their close calls and daring escapes, Sydney was reminded all over again why she'd fallen in love with Tony to begin with, and why she'd missed him even after he'd betrayed her.

He was sweet. Funny. Had puppy-dog eyes. Could be sincere. Made her laugh. They had a lot in common.

Enough to be friends. Not enough to be lovers.

 

Three days went by incredibly slowly. Fletcher had taken pity on Nigel, and the thick, heavy plaster cast encasing him from knee to toes, and allowed him to raid his library. What there was of it. Nigel spent his days slumped in a chair in the bar in a torpid stupor, trying not to melt, reading Pasternak and waiting for his beer to warm up. Nights were spent watching the water, poking various implements down beneath the plaster to try to scratch an elusive itch that was driving him mad, and sleeping in fits and starts. Sydney was never far from his mind.

Neither was Tony.

The morning of the fourth day, he saw a rumpled, filthy man, all stubble and whip and crushed hat like a low-rent Indiana Jones, tell Fletcher that 'nobody else' would be coming after him. Then he asked after Nigel, in much the same manner a cat might ask after a tasty plump mouse.

The resultant adrenaline rush was enough to energize him from his stupor. Fear for his life always did. Fear for Sydney's and Tony's lives were right on the heels of the immediate concern for his own. He stepped, as silently and gracefully as he could with twenty pounds of plaster weighing him down, out the back door and around the side of the bar. Fletcher covered for him, bless the odd man.

Once outside, he cast aside his cane in favor of a fence post, sturdier and pointed, a decent weapon. A few steps further on, he cast that aside as well, in favor of a shovel. Heavier, more pointed, and an even better weapon. It was the best he could do under the circumstances.

It turned out to be just as well he was prepared. He rounded the corner to spot Sydney, just as the man from the bar pushed Tony to the ground and leveled a revolver at his head. Nigel didn't hesitate. He limped as fast as he was able across the sand and walloped the man as hard as he could with the flat of the shovel. The force of his swing knocked him off balance and he landed on his arse on the beach.

It wasn't enough, of course, but Tony took the opportunity Nigel had given him and elbowed the man in the stomach, taking the pistol from him and turning it on the man. Nigel approved, then scrabbled for the knapsack the man had dropped. Tearing the flap open, he was entranced by the gleam from the idol's diamond eyes.

"We got it!" he cried triumphantly. Unable to balance himself due to his broken leg, he felt himself go over backward under the weight of the idol. Volcanic rock that large was unwieldy to say the least. "It's a bit heavy," he mentioned, finding himself pinned beneath it. Sydney laughed. Tony helped him up.

His hands lingered over Nigel's where they rested on the idol. Nigel's breath caught.

Looking past the curve of Tony's shoulder, he saw Sydney, staring at Tony, staring at him. He froze. Then she smiled at him, the slightest hint of mischief in her expression, and one eyelid drooped into a wink.

He blinked.

That was a blessing if ever he'd seen one. His eyes dropped to his hands, still on the idol, and Tony's wrapped around his. The contrast between his pale skin and the warm brown of Tony's against the deep ashy black of the rock made his pulse jump.

"Are you leaving now?" he asked hesitantly, hating the ridiculous breathy quality of his voice.

"Yeah," Tony answered, and Nigel could swear he heard reluctance.

"Actually, we're staying here tonight," Sydney contradicted him. Tony glanced up at her, surprised. "Been a long day and I don't know about you, but I'm wiped," she rattled off. "You wanna give Nigel a hand with that, Tony? I'm going to go ask Fletcher about rooms."

"I have one," Nigel automatically responded.

"You snore," she tossed over her shoulder. Tony looked back down at him after she left, a completely different question in his eyes now.

"Platonic," he blurted out.

"Platonic snores?" Tony teased him.

"Only if you want them to be." Nigel wondered when he'd turned his brain off and put his tongue on autopilot. He could feel himself blushing. Tony was grinning at him.

"Oh, I don't think so," he whispered as he looped a strong arm around Nigel's waist and hoisted him upright.

"Don't think ... what?" Nigel gasped, more from the tightness in his shorts than the pain in his leg.

"Don't think they'll be platonic." Tony's voice dropped again, sounding as if it came from his ankles. Nigel shivered. "Don't think either one of us'll be snoring."

The shiver intensified to a shudder. "Oh," was all Nigel could say, in a very small voice.

"If that's okay with you?" There was amusement as well as real trepidation in the question. Nigel hastened to reassure him.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." He bit his lip again to keep the word from repeating ad infinitum. Tony chuckled. Nigel felt it all the way down to his toes. Even the ones nearly encased in plaster.

By the time they made it to the bar, he had his body somewhat under control again, but he was bathed in sweat and shaking head to foot. Tony settled him in a chair and waited for Syd to join them before sitting.

"Good news and bad news," she said cheerfully. Nigel looked askance at her. Tony appeared somewhat apprehensive. "Fletcher only has one other room to let. So looks like the boys'll be bunking together tonight. Any problems with that?" Before either of them could say a word, Syd plowed on. "Good. Now I'm going to go take a bath and wash a ton of Magar Peak off me, then turn in for an early night. See you in the morning!" With that, she was gone. Nigel stared after her for a long moment.

"Is she always that subtle?" Bemusement had replaced apprehension in Tony's voice. Nigel shrugged.

"Sydney can, at times, strongly resemble a sledgehammer."

Beneath the table, a long-fingered hand settled over his thigh, inching toward the lower hem of his shorts. Nigel stiffened. All of him. "Uhm, Tony?" he hissed quietly. The breathiness was back.

"Yeah?"

Nigel glanced at Tony. Wicked brown eyes were laughing at him. Nigel swallowed hard.

"It's the middle of the afternoon."

"Late afternoon," Tony corrected him. "Just in time for a nap." Before Nigel could say another word, Tony was up, hoisting him out of his chair and around the back of the bar to Nigel's rented room.

"The walls are very thin," Nigel offered, as the world swung again and he found himself flat on his back on the bed.

"We'll be very quiet," Tony assured him.

"Not sure I can be." This admission came as Tony efficiently stripped him to the skin, taking care with the plaster but not letting it slow him down at all. The words brought him another wicked smile from Tony. Then there was an instant change, as completely serious eyes stared down into his. Nigel could feel himself drowning, and the man had barely touched him.

"Do you want this, ipo?" Tony asked quietly.

"God, yes," Nigel answered, both hands reaching out of their own volition and pulling Tony's head down until their mouths touched. A bit impressed with his own daring, Nigel started the kiss, then stalled out, not sure how far to push. Tony took over without hesitation, deepening it, pressing his lips open, exploring tongue to tongue. He was panting by the time Tony broke the kiss and looked down at him.

"Then we'll have to do something about the noise!" With that, he took the tee shirt he'd just stripped off Nigel and used it to gag him. Nigel stared up at him, appalled.

"Ehwm'r dnnmen?" he spluttered.

Tony kissed the tip of his nose and tied his wrists to the bedstead with his socks. "Malihini," he grinned. It sounded like an endearment.

"Whrrrmmem DNNMEN?" Nigel demanded.

Tony started kissing him at the bend of the elbow and kept going until he got to his throat. The demands died to incoherent, muffled whimpers. By the time Tony circumnavigated his nipples, dipped into his navel and nosed along his groin, even the whimpers had died. It was all Nigel could do to remember to breathe.

"Ono, ono," Tony muttered as his hands followed his mouth, and he stroked Nigel to near insanity. "Nani kane." Nigel didn't have a clue what Tony was saying, but it didn't matter. Those hands and that mouth were taking him to Nirvana via the express route.

Tony's hands were everywhere, on his legs, around his waist, over his shoulders, tracing his hips and thighs, and the inferno of his mouth followed. Nigel was a mass of spasming muscles and randomly exploding nerve endings in short order. There was something to be said for being overtaken and overrun by a man a head taller and three stone heavier. It was rather like being besieged by an affectionate bear, without the claws and intent to feast.

Although he wasn't quite sure about the feasting part. Tony certainly felt hungry enough by the time he finally settled down between his thighs and took Nigel in his mouth. He was thankful for the improvised gag. If not for its sound-dampening properties, he might well have shouted the walls down when he climaxed.

Spasms calmed to complete relaxation, as his muscles turned to jelly and his brain boiled to mush in the aftermath of his orgasm. Barely aware that Tony had untied his hands and slipped the gag from his mouth, he tried to muster enough energy to at least move when Tony lifted Nigel's thighs in his hands and entered him. He didn't know how Tony managed it, but the pain was scarcely a twinge. His arms were draped over Tony's shoulders, his unplastered ankle pressing into the small of Tony's back, and his head was sliding against the pillow as Tony buried his mouth at the side of Nigel's neck.

Altogether a supremely satisfactory way to end a hunt. It was worth the broken leg. And the sand flies. And the bad beer.

Tony took his time, and Nigel was ready again by the end of it. This time he muffled his scream against Tony's mouth, hands clutching at sweat-slick skin as he came against the warm bulk shifting against him. With a soft groan, Tony slipped out of him then curled up next to him, careful of his cast. Nigel didn't even mind the fact that he felt like he was sleeping in a sauna. Right about then, the world could have ended and he wouldn't have noticed. He was smiling as he fell asleep.

He didn't feel it when Tony kissed him goodbye. Didn't hear him whisper, "Mahalo" as he touched Nigel's cheek. The roar of the sea plane taking off the next morning woke him up. Nigel looked for a note.

As expected, he didn't find one.

Lying back against the stained sheets, he stared up at the wooden ceiling and wondered what Sydney'd been thinking when she'd winked at him. Three hours later, he was no closer to an answer than he ever was when he attempted to decipher the mystery of his boss. A careful wash, breakfast, three airplanes, two airports and a taxi later, he still had no idea what had prompted her to hand him her ex-boyfriend on a platter.

Perhaps it was her way of saying goodbye to the past.

Smiling a little at the thought, he hobbled into the office and let Claudia flutter over him. "So, tell me all about it!" she demanded as soon as she'd oohed and aahed over his leg plaster. "Did you meet Tony? Was Syd glowing?"

"We retrieved the lost idol of Lono, and Tony and Sydney are returning it to its rightful place today."

"Yeah, yeah," Claudia waved a dismissive hand. "Enough about the rock. So, tell me, are they in love?"

Nigel couldn't quite restrain the smirk. "I was a bit too busy to think about it, really." She looked disappointed.

"Men," she snorted, giving up on him and stomping away. "What can you do with them?"

The smirk melted into a reminiscent smile. "I have a few ideas," Nigel murmured. Luckily, Claudia didn't hear him.

 

Sydney took a deep breath, relishing the scent of her home. Heavy, fragrant, alive. So different from the faintly moldy, evergreen smell of Trinity College. The flowers twined in her hair rustled as she moved, and she smiled in response.

She watched Tony place the idol back on Her pedestal, then smiled as he stepped back to join her. The restlessness he'd had about him for as long as she'd known him was finally stilled. He caught her staring at him, and smiled, a little embarrassed, a little relieved, apparently as happy as she was not to talk about it.

Being by nature a little perverse, this prompted Sydney to address the subject, even if it was obliquely.

"Good time?" she asked teasingly. His smile widened, and he blushed. Then he took a deep breath and reached out to brush her hand with the tips of his fingers.

"We were a long time ago, weren't we?" He sounded wistful, but not particularly sad.

"Yeah." She looked away from him, drawing back just enough to break contact. Not sure what she was mourning, perhaps simply the final death of a fruitless dream, she took a deep breath. "When West Side Story is in town, I could call you. We could catch a show." She smiled at him, determinedly cheerful.

"Now, that'd be nice." He took the olive branch offered under the words, and thanked her with his eyes. They asked her so many things. Are you okay? Can we still be friends? Do you forgive me?

"Yeah," she answered all the unspoken questions along with the surface conversation. "That'd be nice."

He kissed her at the airport.

It was nice.

Nothing more, nothing less.

 

Sydney'd breezed past Nigel and Claudia, tossing out distracted greetings before closing and locking her office door. She was there when he left for the evening. She was still there when he came in the next morning. It didn't appear as if she'd moved a muscle. Nigel stared at her through the window pane.

She didn't _look_ homicidal. Nor did she look particularly upset. Merely thoughtful.

Claudia walked up to join him at his post, staring through the glass as surreptitiously as she was able, which was about as subtle as an alarm siren going off full blast. Claudia didn't _do_ subtle.

"Sydney's still closeting herself in her office," he offered. Claudia eagerly took him up on the conversational gambit.

"Humming show tunes! I've never seen her like this before." Wide blue eyes pinned him to the wall. "What happened in Hawai'i?"

"She didn't say." Perhaps a better question might be, what happened in Madagascar? He didn't mention that, either.

"She's clearly traumatized. Must have something to do with Tony." Claudia had passed judgement, and that was all there was to that. Nigel stifled a grin.

"The One That Got Away. Yes, well, I'm afraid your predictions on that were slightly off the mark." Very off the mark, he snickered silently.

"Why?" Claudia demanded immediately. "Was he fat?"

"No, quite trim, actually." All bunched muscles and warm soft skin.

"Bald?"

"Hardly!" Thick hair, hands buried to the hilt in it, holding his head in place ... blinking rapidly, shifting to hide the physical reaction the memories were causing, he hurried on. "If appearances were anything to go by he was quite the perfect package." He winced at his unintended pun. Thankfully, Claudia was too busy staring at Sydney to notice Nigel's inappropriate response to his recollection of Tony's charms.

"She's been staring at the same page for hours. Tony was _definitely_ the one that got away."

Nigel sighed. How wrong she was. Choosing his words carefully, he tried to deflect Claudia's attention. "I doubt it. I think as she got to know him, after fifteen years, he didn't meet up to her expectations. Tony just wasn't Sydney's type." He sighed again. But he certainly was mine, he thought wistfully.

"Poor Syd." Claudia's face lit up as she came up with a way she could be helpful. "Hey, she could be like this for days. I'd better cancel all her classes."

As if that was the magic phrase, Sydney suddenly got up from her chair and swept through the door. Claudia bounced in place. Nigel looked up at his boss over the top of his glasses. Sydney paid very little attention to them, reaching out and dropping the yearbook she'd been staring at for the past two days into the wastebasket. Claudia squeaked.

"You're throwing away your yearbook?"

"Yes, Claudia, because the past is the past and I am Sydney Fox, the cheerleader, no longer." The pronouncement seemed to lift a weight off her chest, and she looked at Nigel, all business. "Don't we have Ancient Studies at noon?"

"The room's all set up," he answered promptly. She looked approvingly at him, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. He hadn't been imagining permission on Madagascar after all. She _had_ been giving Tony to him.

"Where are my lecture notes?" Sydney went on.

"In your classroom," Claudia answered automatically.

"Excellent!" With that, Sydney swept from the room. Nigel and Claudia looked after her for a moment.

"Cheerleader," Claudia mused.

Nigel snickered. "With pom-poms."

Claudia looked over at the waste bin. Nigel followed her glance. "There are pictures of our Sydney as a cheerleader in that yearbook."

Nigel beat her to the bin.

The pictures were adorable. Sydney, all knees and elbows and bright happy smile, hair in bunches on each side of her head. Next to her, Tony, in full football kit. He looked as good in those skin-tight breeches as Nigel expected he would.

Claudia kept the pictures of Sydney.

Nigel kept the picture of Tony. Claudia never knew a thing.

Sydney did.

end

Hawai'ian words : mahalo = thank you; ipo = sweetheart; ono = delicious; nani = beautiful; kane = man/boyfriend; malihini = tenderfoot

 


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